


Additional Text

by Knope



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: AU: grown ups, AU: the letters didn't get out, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knope/pseuds/Knope
Summary: Lara Jean is 35, single and the author of a bestselling series of YA novels about a young Korean-American girl whose love letters get sent out to her crushes.Mindy Kavinsky is 8, loves the To All the Boys I've Loved Before series more than anything else in the world and is making her dad take her to the book-signing on Saturday.What could possibly go wrong?"'You know, Covey,' a deep voice says, familiar hands sneaking into view as he braces his arms on either side of her table, 'if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think that Hamish was based on me.'"(Uh-oh.)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> lol my life has been taken over by this stupid YA series. Anyway. AU time: THE LETTERS NEVER GOT SENT AND LARA JEAN INSTEAD WROTE THE NOVELS BASED ON WHAT 'COULD' HAVE HAPPENED AND BC SHE CAN'T GET OVER STUPID PETER KAVINSKY!!!!!!!

“You know, Covey,” a deep voice says, familiar hands sneaking into view as he braces his arms on either side of her table, “if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think that Hamish was based on me.”

Lara Jean freezes. After what feels like a painfully long moment, she looks up to find a frighteningly familiar face.

A face with a few more lines, sure, but a face that she’d never forget.

“I-”

“Has she signed the book daddy?” A small voice interrupts, and when Lara Jean looks down, she notices the small girl standing at Peter’s hip, her small fingers tugging at his shirt.

Peter smirks, that painfully, familiar uplift of his lips that has been committed to Lara Jean’s memory, and turns away from her to look at his daughter.

“You interrupted Lara Jean before she could, bub. How about you ask her now, though?”

The girl - Peter’s daughter, Lara Jean realises with a start - beams with that same open grin her father has, and nervously looks up.

Oh no. She’s gorgeous.

This little girl will be breaking hearts just like her father.

“I know you’re signing the new books, but can you please sign my first book, Lara Jean? I love it so much - even if daddy does keep trying to tell me that he inspired Hamish. Which, ugh, I’ve told him a million times isn’t true,” she says, rolling her eyes at Lara Jean like they’re in this together against Peter.

...But unbeknownst to mini Kavinsky, they’re not.

(Thank-god she wore make-up today. Thank fucking god. Even so, she’s sure he can see her blush.)

Lara Jean laughs nervously, gently taking Peter’s daughter’s book. It’s an old copy of her bestseller - not the sequel she’s signing today - and she can tell that it’s well-loved.

“She’s something of a fanatic,” Peter says with a wry grin.

Lara Jean can’t help but smile. This, being young and in love with reading, she remembers. Losing yourself in a world that wasn’t your own - in a world that was far more interesting - was what she used to live for.

Still does, really. She’s just happened to make a career of creating her own world, instead of living in other’s.

“Of course I’ll sign your book. What’s your name, little Kavinsky?”

“Mindy,” she says, eyes wide at the recognition of her last name. “So you really do know my dad?”

Lara Jean just smiles again, scribbling on the inside of Mindy’s book cover - and then reaching for a copy of her sequel.

“This one’s on me,” she tells her assistant, continuing to write another message to Mindy on the second book.

“And so is this one,” she says before she can think better of it, reaching for another copy and scribbling down another message - a very different one.

If Peter is surprised at her gift, he doesn’t show it.

Mindy, however, screams in delight.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lara Jean! This has been the best day of my life!”

She can’t keep the smile off her face.

“Don’t thank me,” she says, leaning in close to talk directly to Mindy before nodding up at her father. “Thank your dad.”

“I will,” Mindy says breathlessly, looking back at Lara Jean in awe as Peter leads her out of the queue, his own copy of Lara Jean’s book tucked under his arm.

“Good to see you Covey,” is how he says goodbye, saluting at her with his new young-adult novel.

She smiles back at him, dazzled by the reappearance of Peter Kavinsky after all these years.

“Oh my god…” her assistant says. “Who was that?”

“That was Hamish,” she says, phrasing it like she’s joking.

Her assistant’s eyes go wide, craning her neck to try and catch another grasp of Peter - but he’s already gone.

After the signing is over and she’s back in her car, Lara Jean’s heart skips a beat.

_(She wasn’t joking.)_

\--------------------------------------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------------------------

When Peter gets home and tucks Mindy up in her bed for the night, he finally gets the nerve to open her book.

_To Hamish,_

_You’ve always known who you are to me._

_Love,_  
_Lara Jean_

Something in his chest soars - he was right. He was _right_. She did like him all those years ago… And maybe even now, too.

He’s glad Mindy’s in bed. She won’t be able to see this absolutely, shockingly dopey grin on his face.

\--------------------------------------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------------------------

He has a daughter.

He has a _daughter_. Who’s at least eight.

Lara Jean reaches for her wine again.

This could have been different.

Very, very different.

\--------------------------------------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------------------------

She wakes up to find a new message request and after a moment of anxiety, taps the message open.

**_10:30pm:_ **

_Covey._

_You’ve broken us up in this sequel of yours! Where is this going!_

**_10:50pm:_ **

_...Hold on… Is this Ken dude based on John Ambrose Mclaren???_

**_11:30pm:_ **

_COVIE, HE TOTALLY IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW DARE YOU REPLACE ME WITH THAT MODEL UN NERD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

**_12:30am:_ **

_...Shit, Covey… Is there really a love-letter out there somewhere that you wrote me? Because, you know, I might have something to say to that. If there is one._

She accepts his message request and frantically taps.

_**6:52am:** _

_...Being painfully honest with you, there is. That’s where it all came from, you know. One day Kitty snuck into my bedroom, found them all and threatened to send them all out - and continued to use that threat whenever she wanted anything. She's still deviously clever. It’s… You’ve read the book, so I think you get it. I wrote them whenever I really liked someone. Even loved them, maybe. It helped me get over them - or at least figure things out._

_**7:14am:** _

_Did it help you get over me?_

_**7:16am:** _

_Obviously not, Kavinsky. I’m here, aren’t I?_

**_7:17am:_ **

_:)_

\--------------------------------------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------------------------

_**7:18am:** _

_Peter Kavinsky has requested to become Facebook friends with Lara Jean Song-Covey_

**_7:21am:_ **

_Lara Jean Song-Covey is now Facebook friends with Peter Kavinsky_

\--------------------------------------------------------------<3-----------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additional additional text!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THNX FOR THE LOVE, EVERYONE, IT HAS PUSHED ME TO SPEED UP THIS WHOLE WRITING JAM!!!!!! Hope you enjoy :)

“So,” Mindy starts with a tone that he’s already afraid of, “what really happened between you and Lara Jean?”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, flipping the eggs he’s frying before turning to rest against the bench and face his tiny, demanding daughter.

“So you believe me now, then?”

Mindy narrows her eyes at him. “The evidence does appear to be mounting.”

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove, plating up their eggs on a mound of homemade hash browns.

“Sauce, daddy!”

He throws her an indignant look over his shoulder. “I’m getting there, bub.”

Mindy giggles, knocking the ends of her already plated knives and forks on the table. “Sauce! Sauce! Sauce! Sauce!”

“Sauce, sauce, sauce, sauce,” Peter joins in sarcastically, hunting for the ketchup before plating up their Sunday brunch.

Mindy grins at him between mouthfuls of runny eggs, pointing her fork at him like a weapon.

“Woah, nellie,” he says, putting his hands up at her stand-up.

“You. Lara Jean. Explain.”

He can’t help the eyebrow that flicks up at her tone.

“Do you talk to your mother like this?” he teases her.

She just giggles at him.

“Clearly not!”

She giggles again and Peter feels a little dig in his chest at the idea that she’ll grow out of being this sweet.

“Mommy doesn’t have a romance novel written about her!”

Well. He has to give her that one.

“I knew Lara Jean at school,” Peter admits.

If he was expecting Mindy to be impressed by the start of his story, he’s sorely mistaken.

“Obviously!”

He leans in over the table to stare disapprovingly at his daughter. “You’re _frighteningly_ similar to me, did you know that?”

“That’s what grandma says,” Mindy says.

“Which one?” 

“Both of them.”

“That might not be a compliment coming from Jasmine’s mother,” he mutters.

Mindy just blinks, waiting for him to continue.  

Peter sighs and starts again. “We knew each other from middle school.” He hesitates over the next bit, but decides to forge ahead. “She was my first kiss, actually.”

Mindy screams and he can’t help but grin in-between covering his ears with his hands until she stops.

“I really liked her… But I didn’t know if she liked me, and another girl at our school, Lara Jean’s friend actually, asked me out before I could do anything else about it.”

“You’re an idiot,” his daughter tells him. “She obviously loved you!”

“Obvious to someone with two books worth of context!” He says indignantly. “But to a twelve year old boy? Not so much.”

“So,” Mindy asks, “What happened with Gen? Or should I say ‘Sophie’?”

Peter rolls his eyes at the mention of Lara Jean’s antagonist in the book. “We dated on and off throughout high school. I thought I loved her, but I didn’t know what love was. It was really hard, actually. She wasn’t… She had a lot of stuff going on. But then again, so did I. You know that my dad left our family when I was 13 and Owen was your age, and she was there for me through that. So it was hard to let her go when things started going wrong - even though I should have. You have to make your own mistakes sometimes," he tells her.  "As long as you learn from them,” he adds. 

Mindy nods solemnly, having heard about Peter’s father before.

“So you never got a letter?” Mindy asks.

“I never got a letter,” he laughs. “I would have done something about it if I had. Although,” he muses, “I wasn’t necessarily smart enough for Lara Jean at the time. I probably would have messed it up.”

“Well, you sort of did in the book,” Mindy agrees.

“Hey!”

“I’m just telling it like I read it!”

He sighs, taking a long, extended pause to look down at his watch. “When are you going back to your moms?”

Mindy just rolls her eyes. “When are you texting Lara Jean?”

“Touche,” he mutters, stabbing at his egg and watching the yolk run wild. “Touche.”

\--------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

Her screen has been blank all day, the blinking cursor of death haunting her. 

She's supposed to have already started her sequel… But things have been thrown a little with the emergence of Peter.

Timelines are getting mixed up in her head, her fantasy colliding with an unexpected reality.

She’d always been steadfast about the fact that her books were fictional. Yes, she used to write love letters, but not to the same characters in her book…

All it took was two minutes with Peter Kavinsky to shatter that flimsy lie.

She’s made a career out of her childhood crush. How completely and utterly mortifying.

Her self-pitying train of thought is broken by the buzzing of her phone. Glad for the excuse to procrastinate, Lara Jean opens the text from Kitty. 

_I hope ur not overthinking this whole ‘real-life Hamish’ thing, Lara Jean._

...Too late _._

_Ring me if you need to talk - I’m on call today, so free whenever._

**_Thanks Kitty. I’m just overthinking it a normal amount at the moment... Don’t feel like chatting just yet, but I’ll let you know <3_ **

She’s midway through putting her phone back down when Kitty replies.

“That was quick,” she says, before realizing that it isn’t Kitty.

_I’m sure your brain is running a million miles an hour trying to fill in all the gaps, Covey, so how about I save you some research time and we grab a coffee tomorrow? I figure I owe you for that first edition book of yours, anyway..._

Her stupid, treacherous heart skips a beat, like it hasn’t aged a day since she was 12.

This is what happens when you hold onto people and write books about them. Stupidly, for the first time since she started this mess, she’s realised what she’s done.

She’s made sure she can’t get over Peter Kavinsky, immortalising her love for him in print.

She’s an idiot - but why stop now?

_Sounds like you’re the one whose brain is running a million miles an hour, Kavinsky… But I do love coffee. Little Neighbourhood? Tomorrow afternoon?_

\--------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

He’s glad nobody can see him fist-pumping to himself in the kitchen.

Frantically, he messages her back.

(He’s 35. He doesn’t give a fuck about playing it cool anymore.)

_Never been to Little Neighbourhood, but excited to check it out. (Mind you, you could have said McCafe and I’d have been excited.) I knock off at 4, so how about 4:45?_

**_Perfect._ **

**_(P.S. Let’s save McCafe for next time)_ **

_You joke Lara Jean, but I’d be there in a heartbeat._

\--------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

She lets him have the last word this time. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next thing in the thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! Hope you enjoy :)

At 3:59pm he’s hustling, hoisting sacks of mulch into his truck at unprecedented speed.

“...You all good, PK? You’ve been antsy all day, man.” Asks a voice from the other side of the trunk as a young, tanned man bags up the last of his and Peter’s tools, sliding them into the truck alongside the fertiliser.

“I’ll tell you,” Peter says, slamming the door down, “when we’re in the car and on our way, Rory.”

“Sure thing boss-man,” Rory mutters in response, mock-saluting as he jumps into Peter’s Bud Landscaping truck.

A few seconds later Peter himself is leaping into the driver's seat, pulling away before Rory can even finish clicking in his seat-belt.

“Dude!” Rory laughs, “What’s the drama?”

Peter remains tight-lipped before giving up his secret.

"I’ve got a date this afternoon.”

Rory whoops over the radio, Peter cringing in response.

“Who’s the lucky lady? And where’d you find her?”

Peter can’t help but smile. “Her name’s Lara Jean. We met when we were kids, but lost touch until a few days ago, actually…”

“Tinder reconnection,” Rory nods authoritatively. “Nice.”

“No, dude! A real-life connection! How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not on that, man.”

Rory just raises an eyebrow at him.

“...Anymore,” he admits guiltily. “She - Lara Jean - actually wrote Mindy’s favourite book series. She’s really smart and beautiful and witty…”

“Oh dude,” Rory says, “You’ve got it _bad_.”

“Thankfully, before you can give me anymore shit, this is your stop.”

Rory sighs dramatically, pulling himself out of the truck as slowly as humanly possible.

“Remember who pays you, Rory,” Peter warns.

Rory just grins. “Have fun, big boy!”

“Don’t call me that!” Peter yells as he hurtles away from the curb, Rory’s booming laughter disappearing into the wind behind him.

_Dickhead_ , Peter thinks fondly.

 --------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

 Half an hour later, hair still wet from the shower, Peter’s screeching out of his driveway. He uses one hand to attempt to straighten his shirt collar while the other frantically turns the wheel. He cuts the corner like he never has and remembers Lara Jean’s own infamously bad driving from high-school.

He behaves himself for the rest of the ride - even if his hair doesn’t.

A few minutes later he’s pulling into the car-park at Little Neighbourhood, turning off the engine - and taking a few seconds to just breathe before he goes in to meet her. He pulls down his sunshade to check his profile in the mirror and feels worse than he did a minute ago, looking at his unruly curls. 

He takes a deep breath and shakes himself.

“Screw it,” he says, opening up the car-door and making his move.

 --------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

Lara Jean hasn’t written a single thing.

Six hours and nothing - _nothing_ \- to show for it.

With a final huff she gives up, shutting her computer lid and glancing back at the envelope she’s been looking at on and off the entire day.

After a few painful moments of deliberation, she lifts up the lip and slides out the hand-written letter.

This isn’t the first time she’s done this - she opened all of them when she was writing the first book. It’s a little hard, when you’re 30, to remember exactly what 15-year-old infatuation felt like.  

Reading the words she wrote to Peter all those years ago, she suddenly remembers.

It’s _mortifying_.

Lara-Jean allows herself a minute to hide her face in her hands, silently screaming, before shaking herself out of it.

The feelings were real, they were, but they were those of a girl who had never known someone properly before. This was love of a shallow kind; infatuation because of his hair and his eyes - and their close proximity to each other. 

Although the words on the letter are real, they weren’t based on anything real.

Not yet.  

Sliding the 20 year old letter back into its envelope she shuts her laptop, slipping everything into the lower shelf of her coffee table before grabbing her keys and heading out.

It could be nothing, she thinks as she tries to calm her rabbiting heart. It could be nothing.

 --------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

She’s the first to arrive and nabs a table that looks out onto the garden. That’s where she’s looking when Peter arrives, sliding into the chair opposite her.

“Hi,” he says, his knee jumping up and down nervously underneath the table.

“Hi,” she says back, eyebrow raised as she glances between the jolting table and his face.

He flushes a little in response, movements freezing. “I’ll try not to knock over the table with my nerves,” he laughs, wide hands moving out to splay in front of her.

Lara-Jean just smiles at him, heart skipping a beat. “Coffee? To help agitate those nerves?”

“I’m not sure I’m feeling the love Lara-Jean...” he says, pretending to sigh. “But definitely coffee. What are you after? I’ll get it.”

Lara-Jean just shakes her head at him, but before she can argue he’s already up and has a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t argue with me Covey - you gave me two books at the weekend; the least I can do is get you a drink. Hot chocolate?” He guesses, cocking his head at her.  

“Matcha latte please,” she smiles. “If you insist.”

“I do,” he says, throwing her a look over his shoulder as he ambles up to the counter and places their order.

Lara-Jean takes the time his back is turned to watch him: to take in his hair, still damp at the top where a few of the curls have just started to gray; the back of his neck which seems impossibly tan; the curve of his jeans as he reaches into his back pocket to take out his wallet…

She flushes as he turns around and she realises she’s been caught.

“So,” he says, sitting down again and looking at her intensely.  

“So,” she replies, eyeing him cautiously in return.

“Besides the books, what have you been up to, Covey?”

She laughs, shaking her head.

“Where do I start?”

“You’re the storyteller,” he smirks, casual as anything with his elbow resting on the table; hand in head as he stares up at her.

She rolls her eyes, but talks anyway. “Well, if you want to go all the way back… I got a bit of a shock when I didn’t get into UVA, but thankfully Margot and my dad made me apply to a few others - and UNC accepted me.”

“I’d heard you’d gone down to North Carolina,” Peter muses.

“Now _that,_ I can’t believe,” Lara Jean laughs. “Nobody talked about me at high school.”

“Now that’s just not true,” Peter teases. “You know that John Ambrose McClaren had a huge crush on you, for one!”

She just rolls her eyes at him again. “Whatever, Peter. You must have heard something from Chris. I tried out a few things at college before finding my home in the English department-”

“Of course,” he interupts, nodding his head seriously.

“-And since then I’ve just been trying to write. I got my start interning at a publishing house, and then worked my way up to sub-editing… Until I finally got through the door with my first book.”

“That’s amazing,” he says as their drinks arrive.

She feels herself blushing again. “It’s been a slow process, but I finally feel like I’m in a place I want to be, you know?”

“Yeah, totally,” he nods earnestly. “I went to college wanting to play lacrosse and honestly, not thinking about much more than that. Eventually, when it became time to pick a major, I had no idea what to do. And - this is so stupid - but there was this garden near the field I would go and sit in whenever I didn’t know what to do. Whenever I was homesick or… just needed to make things better. And one day there was a class there, learning about horticulture and I realised - first of all,  I could actually have a college class outside, which was enough to sell me - and, more importantly, that I could have a career doing stuff like that; creating spaces outside, you know? Which, eventually, led to setting up my own landscaping company a few years ago.”

“That’s why you’re so tan!”

He laughs. “Yeah, that and all the dirt that’s underneath my fingernails.”

Dirt or no dirt, Peter Kavinsky still has beautiful hands, she thinks.

...Among other things.

“That’s not stupid at all, Peter. It’s really great you love what you do - and that you went out on your own.”  

He just smiles at her, shaking his shoulders as if to brush it off.

“I’m serious Peter,” she says. “You should be proud.”

“Thanks Lara Jean,” he says, more quietly than before. “You too, you know. I know Mindy isn’t the only girl that lives and breathes those books.”

She huffs out a laugh, imagining the nights he’s had to read her words. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he grins. “They’re actually really good. Especially that Hamish character,” he says, leaning in with a wolfish grin.

She groans, hiding her face behind her latte.

“I’m just kidding, Covey,” he laughs. “I’m not an idiot - I can see the difference between fiction and reality.”

“Well good,” she says. “Because Hamish might play lacrosse and date the antagonist of the story, but I never even knew enough about you to write a book,” she tells him, eyes dipped down towards the floor.

“I know, Lara Jean,” he says, smiling softly at her. “Maybe we can change that now, though.”

Oh boy. Her eyes are back on his like a shot.

She’s flustered. She’s _very_ flustered. “So Mindy,” she says, trying to change the subject.

“My turn, huh? Time to declare the baggage?”

He’s joking, but she wants to reassure him, anyway. “Your daughter isn’t baggage, Peter,” she says gently. “And if she were… Well, I’ve got my own too, you know. You don’t get to this age without some history. We’re not teenagers anymore.” 

“No,” he says, looking carefully at her. “No, we’re not. But I think that’s a good thing. I mean, I was an idiot.”

Her eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling.

“Don’t look so shocked, Covey, men are capable of self-awareness.”

She laughs into her latte. “So I’ve heard.”

“But Mindy wasn’t a mistake or anything like that. And her mom and I - Amna - are actually friends. Like, for real. There was never any drama or anything like what I had with Gen,” he laughs, shaking his head. “We met after she started helping my mom out in the store when I went off to college - and she’s still there. She even managed to get my mom to bring in something a bit modern and stock some of her own jewellery.”

“Impressive woman,” Lara Jean says, remembering Mrs Kavinsky’s fierce protection of the vintage pieces that dominated Linden & White.

“She is,” Peter agrees. “And a great mom. We do week-on, week-off with Mindy and it seems to really work. She always knew that I never wanted to be like my dad, so the split was almost easy in some ways.”

She’s impressed. The boy who kissed her in middle school has grown up.

“That’s really admirable, Peter. I’ve had break-ups with zero kids involved that have been much messier... “  

“Well,” he says, smiling into the table, “I learnt my lesson with my first girlfriend, didn’t I?”

So he did.

“So…” she starts, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “why did you split, if everything was so amicable?”

“We just wanted different things,” he shrugs. “Mindy was about…four, I think?” he says, nose wrinkled, eyes looking upwards in thought, “and I really wanted another kid and she was like ‘hell no’ -  which was fine, I could have dealt with that - but there was other stuff too. The nights that I wasn’t locked away setting up the business she was at art classes, learning how to make her jewellery, and we just… Drifted as a couple. I still think she’s an amazing woman, but we’re better as friends. Happier that way, too.”

“Wow. That is… Really grown-up, Peter Kavinsky.”

“Well,” he grins, “I am a grown-up, Lara Jean.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I still feel like I’m 16,” she laughs.

“You do live in that world for a living,” he teases.

“I _would_ like you to know I’m a little more competent in the kitchen - and a safe driver - now, just for the record.”   
  
“Sure,” he drawls, looking like he doesn’t believe her for a second.  

“I mean it! But other than that, I don’t feel that much different. I always thought there would be some huge transformation. But there wasn’t.”

“Well, not if there was much that needed changing,” he smiles.

She scoffs at him. “So, you’re still a complete flirt, then.”

He leans in close to tell her, “only to the girls I like.”

Despite herself, she can’t help but smile - and doesn’t stop.

Leaning closer yet, Peter lowers his voice to ask, “what time does this place close? I’m gonna go big and just ask - do you wanna turn this coffee into dinner?”

She doesn’t need to think twice about what she says next.

 --------------------------------------<3----------------------------------

Half an hour later they’re sitting cross-legged on her floor, eating Korean takeaways with Lara Jean’s grandmother’s antique chopsticks.

“This is really good, Lara Jean,” Peter says between mouthfuls, only stopping to take sips of his wine. “I’m only eating savoury pancakes from now on.”

She laughs in response. “I’m sure I can teach you how to make those.”

Peter groans, tossing popcorn chicken in his mouth. “I would love that.”

Lara Jean blushes, taking a drink from her own glass.

“Have you tried this?” Peter asks, holding his chopsticks out to her. “Come on, Covey, take a bite.”

Her blush deepens as she leans in close to take the food.  

“It’s good,” she says quietly, still leaning into him. Swallowing loudly, she stays where she is. Peter puts down his chopsticks and licks his lips.

“Do you… Want dessert?” She asks him.

Peter’s eyebrows raise, a smirk working its way onto his face and she suddenly realises what she’s said.

“Oh! No! I - no, I honestly meant - I’ve got green tea ice cream in the fridge, not that I don’t want… other things! I’m -”

He’s shaking with silent laughter as he shuffles closer, framing her face with his beautiful, calloused hands.

“I got you, Covey,” he says before giving her a moment as he looks between her eyes and lips -  a moment to take an out, if she wants it.

She doesn’t.

Then, the world consists of Peter Kavinsky.

He’s kissing her, and she’s kissing him back, and what was gentle soon becomes frenzied, tongues caught up as he leans her back, and -

“Shit,” he hisses against her lips as he backs her into a container of food, the plastic cracking under her back.

“Oh,” she murmurs, sitting up and allowing him to move the leftovers, Peter pulling at her cardigan as he says, “there’s a bit of sauce on here, if you want me to soak it…”

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, shucking off her cardigan and throwing it across the room. “Also, I don’t give a fuck about the cardigan,” she tells him decisively, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him down so she can climb on top of him. 

Peter looks dumbstruck. “You,” he says as she kisses her way down his neck, “Are full of surprises, Lara Jean.”  

She just grins at him as she sneaks her hands underneath his jumper to feel the bare skin of his chest, his stomach rippling from the chill of her hands.

“You know, if you stay, I could show you how to make those pancakes in the morning….”

Peter rolls them over, staring down at her with a breathtaking look in his eyes.

“Like I said, Covey, you could be offering McDonalds and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

 She laughs and laughs and laughs as he leans back down and surrounds her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> out of character? THEY'RE GROWN UPS! In character? WHY THANKS!


End file.
